


No Friend's Kiss

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Series: Coming of Age [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiple Partners, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By DiamondFrodo struggles with a desire for Sam that he feels can never be acted upon, but actions are taking place between Sam and Pippin which will force the issue . . .
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Series: Coming of Age [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819885
Kudos: 3
Collections: Least Expected





	No Friend's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: These hobbits belong to Tolkien, bless his work, and I make no money off of them, only joy.
> 
> Notes: Frodo's perspective--yes this will be a bit different from his eyes. Year is 1413 S.R., Frodo is 45, Sam is 33, Merry is 31 and Pippin is 23.

* _Frodo_ *

Sam was finally of age.

Frodo sat with Merry and Pippin, watching as Sam took another turn on the dance floor with Rose Cotton, his round face bright and blushing as he turned her around while she squealed and clutched at his sturdy frame; Frodo had to close his eyes for a moment, but he quickly opened them again, punishing himself with the sight. To think of Sam's frame was to think of what was beneath his common clothes of white homespun cotton shirt and plain brown gardener's trousers. He'd seen enough of Sam working shirtless in the garden to know _exactly_ how the muscles across his back rippled when he used his big strong arms to lift something--as he was lifting Rose now--or how tanned his chest had become with the sun's rays, how sweat would trickle down the cleft of his back and down to his trousers . . . now Frodo truly had to turn away and fix his mind on something else; something that wouldn't make his loins tighten.

Merry and Pippin were trying to get Sancho drunk; between jibes at the young hobbit's overlarge feet and his apparent lack of wit, they were downing enough ale to drown the Four Farthings. Pretty soon they'd convinced Sancho to challenge Sam to a wrestling match, then Merry and Pip tried not to choke with laughter as the young but very strong Proudfoot tackled Sam right in the middle of the dance floor and began an impromptu spar. Frodo laughed so hard himself he had tears streaming down his face, but he was quite impressed; Sam not only managed to recover from the surprise but soon had the Proudfoot in an unbreakable hold with one arm behind his back and a scissorlock hold with his thighs on his dangerous kicking feet. Oh, to be in a similar position himself with Sam . . . once more Frodo cursed his too active imagination and tried to focus elsewhere.

He was a wonder at tormenting himself. Merry had remarked on it a time or two; why not simply ask the fellow or seduce him and get it over with? But while being with Merry (before Pip became old enough to figure out things) had been comfortable and friendly, that would never be the case with Sam--more likely he would destroy the dear hobbit's life.

It had been not too long after Bilbo's departure that he had started noticing Sam; before that Hamfast and Sam had been sort of a fixture together at the place, the same way that Bilbo and he were; tutor and student, and while he had been intrigued at Sam's attempts to learn his letters and listen to elvish poetry, he'd simply been too young for Frodo to consider him for anything else; plus at that time Frodo was still trying to figure out exactly what he was about himself--why Bilbo was had always remained a bachelor and what his own future would look like.

But the loss of Bilbo--the terrible loneliness with Merry and Pip too often far away--Sam had responded to him like he was a rose in need of special care. So loving, and so utterly selfless, the way he gave and gave regardless of the cost to himself, like the evening when a surprise thunderstorm had drenched Frodo coming home and Sam had come out of his own home, likely exhausted after a hard day's work, and walked Frodo home, sheltering him with his coat as he himself was drenched, then making him soak his feet in hot water, starting the fire for him and rubbing the warmth back into his limbs so he didn't take cold--it melted the hard shell he had attempted to put over his heart after the loss of his parents and Bilbo. He would do anything to keep Sam happy and their relationship, such as it was, safe.

While Sam was in his tweens, keeping his own desires locked away had been easy--there was absolutely no way he would warp the young fellow the way he himself felt warped--he knew the talk around town, but he was Bilbo's heir; it was almost expected that he would turn strange. There was also the focus of that strange heirloom and Gandalf's visits and warnings to keep him busy, plus his own desire to travel--lately he'd been doing more and more of that, both to get news of what seemed to be a darkening world outside the Shire, and to stay away from Sam as he blossomed into a more and more enticing example of hobbitkind. How he wished he could find news of Bilbo--he needed the old hobbit's advice now more than ever.

But now age wasn't an excuse any more; Sam was most definitely old enough to know his mind and his preferences. And lately he'd been favoring Frodo with some looks that made his heart stop and his mouth go dry--looks that were _almost_ enough for him to approach the subject . . . but every time he shied away and again locked away the urge. Sam's parents were setting him up to marry Rose; his mother had mentioned with pride how the wooing had begun, and by Sam's attentions tonight, it was apparent he liked the girl and would likely be ready to settle down soon. Frodo couldn't break that apart; he honored and respected the Gamgee family far too much. He was destined to be alone, it seemed; but better that than destroy both Sam's heart and his future.

Sam bowed to applause after the wrestling match, and Merry and Pip rose to try out another of their jokes on him--something about worms in his pipeweed or some such foolery. Hamfast Gamgee sat down beside Frodo and began talking about how Sam's work was coming on the new section of garden. Frodo sighed inwardly; he would have liked to grab Sam for a moment and talk to him, but that would have to wait. Part of him was urgently clamouring for him to do something tonight, a present of some sort for Sam's coming of age.

He lost track of time for a bit then, laughing at jokes the old Gaffer was telling him, then catching up on news with the Cotton boys, until suddenly he spotted Sam coming across the room with Pip in tow, both of them weaving rather alarmingly with excess of drink. Frodo's breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened; Sam looked so vital, so inviting with his hair tussled from the wrestling match and his face flushed with drink and a nice stretching in the fabric of his trousers allowing a little bulge there to be discernable . . . more than a little, actually. And he was giving Frodo one of those looks again, the ones that made his blood boil and the room spin . . .

He had to pinch himself to concentrate on what Sam was saying, "Pippin here's had a few too many--Merry's busy so I'm going to make sure he gets home all right. I'm about through for the evening meself--thanks ever so much for the party, Da, Mr. Frodo, sir."

A sudden idea occurred to Frodo; an image of him sneaking in on Sam while he was sleeping--a perfect opportunity to perhaps talk . . . or do more . . . "You're walking him all the way back up to Bag End? You can sleep there, if you like, Sam--I've plenty of rooms." So many times he had asked and Sam had refused--oh he hoped maybe this one time Sam would stay. Pip slept like the dead and Merry certainly wouldn't mind any unusual noises--he clamped down on that thought before it could develop further. No, they were just going to talk. That was all. He was his employer, for goodness sake!

Pippin spoke up encouraging Sam, and with his help it looked like Sam might perhaps stay. Sam bowed his head and said a bashful thank you, then the pair were off, and Frodo continued his discussion to find out if the Cotton boys had only heard rumors of more dwarves or actually talked to them. Not surprisingly, it was mostly rumor and conjecture. He hadn't expected news of Bilbo, but he was beginning to wonder if Gandalf was ever going to come back and tell him why he had to be so careful of Bilbo's magic ring--Gandalf had never been away so long before, and with news of orcs breeding and darkness spreading, well, Frodo just hoped everything was all right.

He wasn't sure just how much later--not very long, just long enough for him to finish his ale--Merry came in with Estella, the two looking about as guilty as could be, rather like how Frodo must have looked when Farmer Maggot caught him with the basket of mushrooms. He smiled. So Merry's tastes were changing? Well that would certainly please his parents--they worried over who he was going to marry and whether he'd ever settle from his wild ways to become Master of Buckland. And Fatty's sister! Frodo took a quick glance to see if Fatty was occupied--well, even better; he was passed out. He liked Estella--sensible lass.

Merry said something to Estella, gave her a peck on the cheek, and hurried over to Frodo, and Frodo frowned now--something was wrong. Both of them seemed a little upset. He stood and stepped away from Hamfast and the others to take Merry by the hand. "Is something the matter?" he asked in a gentle voice.

Merry shrugged, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Pip and I had a few words we probably shouldn't have had, and maybe I did something wrong; I'm not sure. I think I need to go talk to him."

Frodo nodded, wondering what could have come between the cousins--since they were tiny they'd been together. "Sam took Pippin home. I'm sure he's just fine. I'm about ready to leave anyway--I'll walk with you." He itched to ask about Estella, but that would be intrusive; no need for the older distant cousin to be prying into things that weren't his business.

Merry licked his lips, a worried look on his face, and muttered, "Yeah, I saw them leave. I do hope they're all right." He gave a laugh without mirth. "You haven't seen Pip in one of his sulks; he's acting the true tweenie tonight. You remember how I used to be? He's worse."

Frodo laughed and rubbed Merry shoulder, trying to ease some of the tension there. "Sam's got the patience of an elf. If anyone can handle Pip, he can. Hang on--let me get my coat." He grabbed his coat from the chair and shook Hamfast's hand. "Merry and I are off--this was a wonderful party--and I hope you'll be all right heading home . . . "

"Not to worry, Master Frodo! And thank you for offering your hospitality to my Sam tonight--he's right pleased to be officially taking over the gardens now that he's of age--not that we don't know he's been doing it by himself for quite some time. You're a kind soul, sir, to have put up with my ailments and Sam's training, but I'm certain we'll be making it up to you in the course o' time. Good health and good evening, Master!" Hamfast bobbed his head and shook Frodo's hand most enthusiastically, obviously free from pain thanks to a steady supply of ale tonight. Frodo made his departure as quickly as he could in all politeness and as Merry and he began walking down the path towards the Hill, he was finally able to ask a few questions.

"So what was Pippin upset about? I don't suppose Estella has anything to do with it--the two of you looked quite close there when you came in." It was a beautiful evening, the moon high overhead in a sky bright with stars, only the barest wisps of clouds blurring their patterns.

Merry didn't seem at all impressed with the sights, keeping his head down and his eyes straight ahead as he walked, his hands in his pockets in a posture so like those 'sulks' he'd had in his own youth that Frodo had to fight the urge to laugh aloud. He shook his head, scowling. "I guess I should have seen it coming, but he's always seemed so innocent and young, but he's growing up now, have you seen? I look at him and I don't see a child any more, but he's a far cry from being a full grown hobbit as well. It confuses me sometimes, and I say things I shouldn't. I don't know where he gets those ideas in his head--probably listened too much to Ted Sandyman or something, I shouldn't wonder--unless you told him something?" He stopped and eyed Frodo suspiciously.

Frodo was taken aback. "About what?

Merry resumed walking--running, almost, and Frodo had to hurry to keep up with him. "About you and me--what we used to do together. He was asking whether I'd ever taken a thought to do anything-ahem-pleasurable with another lad before. Seemed kind of important to him, but I'm afraid I reacted badly--I don't know who he's taken a fancy to, but he's too young! I won't have anyone take advantage of my Pip! Anyways I got all bothered about it myself just talking and had to take care of things, so I used Estella, which probably wasn't good either, but mind you, I do like her. If I'm ever going to marry anyone it would be her--she's got a strength to her that makes her seem more like a lad than a lass. But the truth is far worse, Frodo. I'm falling in love with my own cousin. What in the blazes do I do about that?"

Well that was a surprise . . . and yet somehow it wasn't. Thinking back to all the time he had seen Merry and Pip together, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world--but of course Merry was right; it wasn't. Oh, the Bucklanders and the Tooks together would be having fits if they knew. Merry was right to fight it, the same way he fought his own love for Sam. Pulling hard on Merry's arm as they climbed the winding path up the Hill, he managed to get Merry to stop long enough to pull him in for a fierce hug.

"I don't know, Merry, but I know how it hurts. I guess you'll just have to do the best you can to explain things to him, if he's already starting to have feelings of his own. Gods, I can't believe he's already that old--hah, I remember how old you were, and how young and foolish I was. I'm truly sorry if I caused this in any way. The same way you and Pip are best friends now--well, that's how you were to me then. And I just needed someone at that time." He looked into Merry's mercurial eyes, at the stubborn tilt of his chin and his snub of a nose. He still loved him. Not like Sam--everything with Sam was so much deeper, bound to his soul, it seemed at times, but Merry was still one of his best friends and closest family. Had he hurt him when things cooled off for them? He didn't think so, and yet there was always the possibility. "I never hurt you, did I, Merry?" he asked in a near whisper.

Merry cracked one of his wicked smiles; the ones that hid his emotions so well. "Of course not, Frodo--we were just exploring--I knew that. I'll admit I was a _little_ jealous when you started talking about Sam, but only a little. I can't even describe how strong my feelings are for Pip. It scares me to my roots. If anyone has the power to hurt me, he does. I have to talk to him."

On impulse, Frodo leaned forward and kissed Merry; only an intimate friend's kiss, a show of support, a sweet memory of things that had been and a hope of things to come for both of them; all his longings for love went into that kiss. It wasn't long, but it was enough to send both of them to tears; hugging each other, they struggled to regain composure and began walking again.

"It will be all right, Merry, you'll see. We'll both have our talks, and we'll both have the strength to do whatever's best for our loves. Come on, then--we're almost there," Frodo said in a quavering voice, eyes tearing up anew at the way his beautiful little garden gleamed in the moonlight as they walked up to the door. Sam already gave him so much. It was enough. It had to be enough.

"I just hope Pippin hasn't done anything stupid--you didn't see him and Sam leave the Green Dragon--I didn't tell you that part--" Merry broke off talking as they opened the door, staying close by Frodo's side as if afraid of what he would find.

Frodo lit a candle against the dark of the hallways."I'm sure they're all right, Merry; here we can check in on them. Sam? Pippin? Did you get Sam to stay?"

"It's just not like Pip to leave early like that," Merry began--he seemed about to say more, but then they heard voices and movement coming from Pippin's room. They walked down the hall to the room and looked to each other wondering if they should knock or just open. Merry swallowed, a look of fear and expectation on his face, and opened the door.

Frodo heard Merry gasp beside him, but he was too busy goggling at the sight before him to register much else. Sam, his hair tussled and his skin bright red, was struggling to button up his shirt as Pip sat in the middle of a rumpled bed looking somehow smug and defiant at the same time, his arms crossed over his chest and his only clothing a shirt draped across his lap. A familiar scent was in the room, and Frodo's mind blanked, trying to comprehend what he was looking at--could they really . . . had they . . .

Pippin spoke before anyone else could. "Yes, we bedded each other." It was not an admission, it was a challenge, and he was delivering it to Merry--his eyes were locked on his cousin.

Sam looked ready to dig himself a tunnel and climb in; Frodo had never seen him so distressed before. *Oh Sam, please tell me he didn't force you to do anything*, he thought, his heart clenching, but before he could say a word to tell Sam everything was going to be all right, the stout hobbit was burying his face and bustling past him to run down the hall towards the door, sobbing, "I'm sorry!"

Frodo looked to Merry--there was obviously a very _big_ problem here, but he didn't know if he needed to help with his cousins or chase after Sam--his heart screamed to run, not let Sam get out that door . . .

"I'll handle Pip," Merry whispered, his face ashen, but with shock, anger, or guilt, Frodo couldn't tell. Once Sam was under control, he'd have to find out more about this--he'd never even seen it coming--that Sam and Pip . . . who had started it? Had it been mutual? He had to know!

There wasn't time to say anything; he simply nodded and ran after Sam who had already opened the front door and was fleeing out into the night.

"Sam!" he cried, cursing himself for not seeing this coming, for not telling him about his feelings sooner. Did Sam love Pip? Please no, he begged, it couldn't be--his heart would utterly shatter if that were the truth, but he had to know. "Please Sam, stop!" he cried; he was catching up, but slowly, and the night was cold to be running off half dressed--and he could hear Sam crying--each sob tore into him with little knives. "Turn around, Sam, and look at me!" His own voice was thick with tears; they were flowing freely down his cheeks now.

Ahead of him, Sam staggered and fell to one knee, his face still buried in his hands. "D-don't worry, Mr. Frodo, I'll resign; I c-can't believe I dishonored you so." His broad shoulders were hunched and shaking, as if he thought he could shrink that powerful frame into something insignificant, curl up into a ball and roll away just like one of those 'tater' bugs he fished out of the garden at times. Frodo gasped with relief that he had stopped and nearly plowed into him, throwing his arms around his back and burying his head against him.

"No, no, Sam--there's nothing to apologize for, truly! Come back into the house; we need to talk, and no, I'm not angry! Please Sam, will you look at me?" Frodo put one hand on each side of Sam's face and tried to force it out from the crook of his arm to look up at him, but his strength was no match for Sam's, and the younger hobbit was keeping his eyes tightly squeezed shut, trying to block him out.

Despairing, Frodo did the only thing he could think to do. He nestled under Sam's arm and kissed him on the lips.

He felt Sam gasp in surprise and felt a shock of fear--what if he rejects this? But the next second Sam was wrapping his arms around him in an almost painful hold and returning the kiss with sudden passion; Frodo forgot to breathe, forgot to even _be_ as his whole world seemed to merge with Sam, those powerful arms crushing him to a broad chest and those full lips pressing into him, devouring him in a surge of need so strong he felt his legs collapse; it was fortunate Sam was holding him up. As their tongues met there was a giddy euphoria sweeping through him, purest bliss which made his fingertips tingle and his essence throb with dizzying need. He feared he might faint and had to break off the kiss to gasp for air.

Sam's brown eyes were locked onto his, scouring his soul. "Please tell me that weren't no friend's kiss, sir--I'd be ever so ashamed--"

Tears still leaked down his full cheeks; Frodo wiped them away with a fingertip and grinned through his own tears, trying not to laugh with the joy of finally having him, being in his arms. This certainly wasn't how he had planned on doing this, but the moonlight, the cool breeze blowing Sam's soft curls, the soft song of crickets in the lane--it would do. Oh yes, it would more than do. "I love you, Sam. I've always loved you this way. I was simply too afraid to show it. Do you forgive me?"

For an answer, Sam simply smiled and drew him in for another kiss, whispering breathlessly at his ear, "I love you too, sir, I love you, my dear master. I don't never want to be with anyone else again."

Frodo thought for a moment of Pippin, then Sam's lips were erasing all thoughts from his head.

* * *


End file.
